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<title>Fellas, Is It Gay To Kiss Your Homie while You Watch Telenovelas at 3 in the Morning? by jelloheart</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335969">Fellas, Is It Gay To Kiss Your Homie while You Watch Telenovelas at 3 in the Morning?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelloheart/pseuds/jelloheart'>jelloheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also since Filipino Karkat isn't really a thing, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And also first fic since sixth grade, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider's Bad Parenting, Filipina Nepeta Leijon, Filipino Karkat Vantas, Half-Filipina Rose Lalonde, I went full ham and this is all set in the Philippines, M/M, Minor Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Mutual Pining, Please Don't Kill Me, Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde - Freeform, This is my first fic in the Homestuck fandom, it's only mentioned, pov switching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:48:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelloheart/pseuds/jelloheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With an overbearing older brother and a wild younger sister, Karkat has his hands full. He just wants to finish high school peacefully, without any more drama. There's enough in the primetime slots on TV as is. But when he hears from his brother that they're hosting a transferee hailing from the great US of A, he wishes for the Earth to just swallow him whole.</p><p>When Rose's mom offers Dave some help getting out of his Bro's house by offering him a scholarship on the other side of the world, he leaps at the opportunity. He's told he'll be staying at another family's house, he wasn't told however that the family living there wasn't expecting him.</p><p>What will these two get up to, I wonder?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's 5 AM, Monday, in the Vantas household, and Karkat is still asleep. He would prefer to be asleep still, at this time, as he thinks it is still summer vacation. However, his sister and brother, who have now entered his room, know it is the first day of school. “Karkat, hoy, wake up.” Kankri nudges the boy’s body. He groans and rolls over in response. Nepeta is the next one to attack, quite literally. She gets on his bed and shakes him awake. “Kuya, kuya, kuya, wake uUUUP!” She practically screams into his ear. He quickly shoots upwards from the bed, ready to attack whoever attempted to murder him, knocking his sister onto the floor. “Owie..” She says. Kankri helps her up, and Karkat looks apologetic for a second, before his face scrunches up in anger. Of course, we can’t go a single day without him being perpetually pissed off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> (“It’s still early, why’d you wake me up?”) </em> he says in Tagalog, voice hoarse from waking up. His brain’s still dull from waking up, not that he’s bright when he’s lucid either. <em> (“It’s school time, hurry up, it’s five ‘o clock.”) </em> Kankri answers back gruffly. He exits the room, humming something under his breath. Nepeta tugs at her slow-moving brother. “Hurry UUUUP slowpoke!” She repeatedly taps her foot on the floor, waiting for her slug of a brother to roll off the bed, open his eyes, anything really. Karkat finally stands up, and she lets out a small hooray, and practically busts into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He scratches his head, wondering where his sister got the habit of speaking English. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he sits on the edge of the bed, stretching his arms, yawning like a sloth. He contemplates meditating a little bit just to postpone him getting out of the bed. The guy isn't ready for school, not like he’d ever be ready at all, but he’s still in vacay mode, not exactly switching out for school mode any time soon. Give or take a week or two of this and maybe he’ll finally begrudgingly trudge into the bathroom himself. Who’s to say. Anyway he can’t take a shower right now, his sister’s in there. You can’t rush a young woman taking a shower. God knows they take forever. Maybe he can just take a quick nap while his sister takes her sweet sweet time. Head gravitating to the sweet cold embrace of the pillow, he closes his eyes. Just 5 more minutes-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears the soft click unlocking the bathroom door. No extra sleep. Why does Nepeta have to be so dang fast? He musters the strength to push himself up the bed. On the count of three, one, two, three. Nothing. Really? You just needed to stand up, Karkat. Okay maybe you just didn’t hear. One, two, three, stand up. Okay, now he’s up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He steps into the shower, slowly undressing and putting his dirty clothes into the hamper stashed away under the sink. He takes the showerhead and blasts himself with ice-cold water. He shivers as he scrubs himself down as quickly as possible. He regrets not waking up early to heat up some water for his shower. Cold, wet, and angry, he dries himself off with a towel. He sits in front of the fan to dry his hair off, and afterwards grabs some gel and sticks it in there so it doesn’t look like a sad sack of curls atop his tiny head. He slips into the school uniform consisting of a plain white short-sleeved button up with the school’s logo on the breast pocket, and black slacks. Tying a gray jacket to his waist, he stuffs a pair of black socks into its pocket to wear them after he finishes eating breakfast. Wouldn’t want them to get dirty on the floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walking into the kitchen, he sees Kankri is already dressed up for work, in his white long sleeve button-up with a blue necktie and a red sweater. He personally thinks it might be too hot for the weather, but hey, if the guy wants to sweat buckets by 10 o’clock he isn’t going to judge. In fact, he hopes his brother gets soaked in disgusting sweat. Then maybe his female (and some male) classmates won’t ogle at his brother. Really, it’s creepy, why do they have a crush on this guy? Yuck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spots Nepeta greedily scarfing down the contents of her plate, already wearing her school uniform, the same logo emblazoned on her collar, skirt a nice blue and green tartan. Her hair is covered by a cute little cat hat, and he can’t help but smile. She’s worn it almost everyday since he bought it for her at a school fair. In his opinion, his sister might be a little too old for these kinds of hats, especially since she’s entering high school, but he’s not about to be a killjoy for his sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns his attention to the spread of food. An egg and a few pieces of Spam is left on a plate, and the platter of garlic rice has been decimated to about a cup. His brother and sister are already in the process of devouring the food. <em> (“Karkat, sit down and eat already. You might be late.”) </em> He plops himself onto the seat, pouring himself a glass of water, and taking the rest of the food, scraping them all into his plate. Nepeta babbles about how she’s heard from her classmates that their adviser this year will be chill, Kankri talks up a storm with her, and Karkat just stares at them as he shovels food into his mouth with his spoon. For the life of him he could never get how this man could pack so much wind into his lungs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kuya Karkitty, you look like a squirrel!” She exclaims, catching Karkat’s attention from the food shoveling. He cringes at his sister's nickname for him. “You shouldn’t stuff your mouth, wait, on second thought, maybe you should. Then you wouldn’t argue with me so often!” He can hear the slight twang in his brother's accent. He gives him an indignant hmph, hastily downing a glass of water to help swallow his food. “You’re never safe from debates with me, Kuya.” Kankri gives him a piercing glare. “You call them debates but really it’s just an excuse to pick on me.” Nepeta ignores this tension as she puts her plate in the sink, and pulls out her phone to watch some anime. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Karkat decides he’s had enough and picks up his plate, places it in the sink and gets a start on washing the dishes. He picks up the sponge, but is stopped by his brother, giving him an ominous smile. <em> (“Let me do the dishes, my dear sweet brother.”) </em> Kankri says, attempting to steal away the Scotch-Brite in his younger brother’s hands. <em> (“No no, Kuya, it’s alright, I’ll do them.”) </em> Karkat says with a grunt, yanking his arm away from the blighted potato gripping it. <em> (“Are you sure?”) </em> He says, earning a displeased glare from the kid. <em> (“Yes I’m sure, now go away.”) </em> Finally, he raises his hands in surrender and walks over to their sister, telling her to fix up her things as he heads out, starting up the car and driving off to the school.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Karkat quickly finishes up the dishes, stowing them away on the dish rack. Nice and shiny. Good job, Vantas. “Kuyaaaa, the service is heeeere!” Nepeta calls, her badge-bedazzled backpack already on her. He slings his gray backpack on, and grabs his black shoes. The 13 year old taps her foot on the ground impatiently, waiting for him to hurry up so she can finally hop on and greet her new high school life with open arms. She starts to imagine what it’s going to be like. So many new friends, so many possible people who could help build her new shipping chart this year! If only Kuya wasn’t such a slowpoke. “Kuuyyaaa-” He finally stands up, wearing his shoes. “Let’s go.” Again, she’s hopped into the van before he could complete his sentence. He runs up and hops on, taking a seat. The van driver greets them a good morning. <em>(“New school year, you guys ready?”)</em> He asks them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, are they? Nepeta answers a resounding yes, jumping up from her seat, and Karkat just gives a mighty shrug as he tells his sister to sit down so she doesn’t bonk her head on the roof of the vehicle again. But despite his sister’s enthusiastic yes, nothing could prepare them for the news they were about to receive that day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dave's awake at 2 AM. He gets some news.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s 2 AM and Dave’s still up, holed up in his room, blanket over his head and surfing the web. Approximately a bajillion tabs are open. He’s watching some random stuff on YouTube, as one tends to do when they are surfing the web at 2 in the goddamn morning. Why is he even up? Frankly, you should be sleeping at this hour, no excuses. You can imagine his surprise when a notification sounds from his emails, buried under countless tabs opened to weird searches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes some tabs, taking note of the searches in his mind (he’ll forget them in a few seconds) and opens up his email. Half of his inbox is just notifications from websites he signed up for but never went back to again. But one sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s from that high school Rose, his cousin that he got to see every Christmas, told him her mom works at. He decided to send a scholarship application on a whim, since she insisted because ‘his living conditions are unacceptable’. Yeah, right. But it would be nice to get away from Bro’s constant insistence to strife every time he got home. And the smuppets. The gog-awful amount of smuppets. It was getting old. So he filled in a form, took some tests, got the permits, acquired some documents, and sent them on their merry way.  Apparently, they wanted to interview him in person, and that he had to get to the school by tomorrow. Wait, what?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How in the fresh gogdarn heck is he going to get to the OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD by TOMORROW? He frantically opens up Pesterchum, maybe Rose decided to be a bit of a bad kid and is online. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b>
  <b class="pesterlog"> began pestering </b>
  <b class="rose">tentacleTherapist [TT]</b>
</p><p> </p><p class="dave">TG: rose</p><p class="dave">TG: rose</p><p class="dave">TG: rose</p><p class="dave">TG: rose</p><p class="dave">TG: rose</p><p class="rose">TT: Dave this better be very urgent like a fractured rib or something of the sort. I am hiding out in the women’s bathroom and I have 2 minutes.</p><p class="dave">TG: i got accepted into your school</p><p class="rose">TT: Oh, wow, that’s quite the development.</p><p class="dave">TG: but plot twist they want to check me out first before i can actually go to school there</p><p class="rose">TT: Well that shouldn’t be much of a problem, the interviews are always easier than the entrance exam. When is it scheduled for?</p><p class="dave">TG: tomorrow</p><p class="rose">TT: Ah, I see the… conflict now.</p><p class="dave">TG: no kidding how do i yeet my ass from houston, texas to wherever you schmucks are? </p><p class="dave">TG: no really rose do i sprout giant crow wings and fly to your house, raiding your kitchen for bread because oh yeah im part bird now. and now you dont have any bread, whoopee.</p><p class="rose">TT: As much as I would love to indulge your convoluted metaphor tangents right now, I’m at school, and the teacher is probably expecting me to be back by now. I’ll tell my mother the issue and maybe she can solve this.</p><p class="dave">TG: alright go back to being a good kid as you always are</p><p class="rose">TT: Gladly. There’s only an hour left in the school day anyway, so I’ll be back with news soon.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b>
  <b class="pesterlog"> stopped pestering </b>
  <b class="rose">tentacleTherapist [TT]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He checks the time. Two minutes have passed. Wow, Rose was really exact about this, huh. Well, he has an hour before Rose comes back from school with news, and about 4 hours before his brother wakes up, 5 hours before he leaves for work. That’s a lot of hours. He’d have enough time to watch like two movies, make a sick beat, work on SBAHJ, polish his swordsmanship, or goof around the Internet even more. Of course, he’d rather do the last thing. Not many good movies on Netflix right now, and he’s deliberately putting off doing more SBAHJ until he can get some ideas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he just goes around and googles his potential new high school, y’know, for craps and giggles. It’s located near this mountain, cool. He looks at the uniforms, pretty normal. He looks at their about page. The logo is plastered on the first part. It’s a branch of a flower placed within a ring, the name of the school on top and the year it was established on the bottom. He keeps on reading. He finds the Student Life tab, and since he wants to know what he’s getting into anyway, clicks on it. There are three sections, the Academic Calendar and the Activities and Events tabs probably being more apt for the students already there. But he sees that their school newspaper is on public display, and so he clicks on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rose mentioned occasionally that she worked on her school’s newspaper. Maybe now he could see what kind of boring prose she’s come up with. All of the articles have the name of the writer appended to them, along with a picture of their face. He skims through the pages, and he finally spots his cousin’s article, along with a picture of her face. Her obviously forced smile makes him chuckle a little. The article is sorted under Opinions, and he braces himself for a thick wall of words. Instead, he finds a manageable chunk of writing. Huh, surprisingly tame. The whole article is just her opinion on a piece of literature, something about wizards? Dave never really got her wizard thing. He has to admit, they do have dope-ass hats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The article next to her features the face of a boy about their age. Messy hair, dark skinned, and definitely not smiling for the camera. The article labels him as Karkat L. Vantas. He’s ranting (writing would be too nice of a descriptor for his words) about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>teleseryes </span>
  </em>
  <span>(He guesses they’re like telenovelas) were becoming too obvious and corny. He goes on to rave about them, about how they set up impossible standards of romance, and how 3 seasons are dedicated to the chase but 1 or 2 to the actual relationship. Dave finds it a bit funny that the guy is so passionate about this whole topic. How does he have enough time to watch all of these? Don’t they run for forever? Still, he reads through the whole thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He decides to go through their archives just to read this Karkat’s ramblings. They all varied wildly in topics, some in the same vein as earlier, some of them he writes about his experience on the debate team, others are about the weirdness of teacher crushes (Can’t help but feel like this was more personal than the others). Unlike most of the things he enjoyed doing, this wasn’t an ironic pleasure. He genuinely liked the creativity of the writing and felt like despite it being just words on a screen, that he was connecting with him. There was sincerity and vulnerability. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, an hour passes. He doesn’t notice until his Pesterchum dings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b class="rose">tentacleTherapist [TT] </b>
  <b class="pesterlog">began pestering </b>
  <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b>
</p><p> </p><p class="rose">TT: Hello, cousin. Mother told me to tell you as long as you arrive this week, you’ll be fine. Also, that someone is going over there early tomorrow morning to pick you up. A colleague of hers, she pulled a favor from him. I gave him your chumhandle, so he’ll message you when he lands there. Meet him at the airport.</p><p class="dave">TG: excuse me what now</p><p class="dave">TG: some unlucky dude has to haul my ass from texas to manila tomorrow??? doesnt the trip take like basically a day?</p><p class="dave">TG: and this guy since he works with your mom, im gonna assume hes a teacher</p><p class="rose">TT: Yes.</p><p class="dave">TG: man tough luck for that guy</p><p class="dave">TG: he has to deal with teenagers all day</p><p class="dave">TG: now he has to pick up this bad slice of bread an d haul it back home </p><p class="dave">TG: won’t even get to like, stay for fun or anything</p><p class="dave"> TG: just get here, get me and get home </p><p class="dave"> TG: that’s like, so sad</p><p class="dave"> TG:  sadder than if an onion tried to be a clown</p><p class="dave"> TG: at least he won’t deal with me for too long.</p><p class="rose">TT: I barely understood a single thing you just typed, but the last part is inaccurate. </p><p class="dave">TG: what</p><p class="rose">TT: Mother pulled another favor and you’re staying with his family for the duration of time you’re here. </p><p class="dave">TG: oh man you’re going to kill the guy
</p>
<p class="dave">TG: your mom is murdering this man in broad daylight and no one is giving a flying crap. not even me. </p><p class="rose">TT: He’ll live, Dave. I know him and his brother personally. They aren’t going to die from some mouthy American kid who likes swords. Anyway, I suggest you start packing. I’m going to log off, chatting in the car gives me a headache.</p><p class="dave">TG: one last thing though rose</p><p class="rose">TT: What?</p><p class="dave">TG: you really swooped down and took a dig at wizards of waverly place? dang</p><p class="rose">TT: Oh my gog where did you read that?</p><p class="dave">TG: a man has his sources, it’ll always remain a mystery </p><p class="dave">TG: did i pull it out of my heaving buttocks, all of it covered in disgusting fecal matter, and feasted on your opinion piece about a disney channel show from the 2010s in all its toilet-recovered glory? </p><p class="dave">TG: you’ll never know</p><p class="rose">TT: Okay Dave please shut up the image is horrifying and I wish to unsee it. Good day.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b class="rose">tentacleTherapist [TT] </b>
  <b class="pesterlog">stopped pestering </b>
  <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dave checks the time on the wall clock above his turntables. It’s 3 o’clock. 3 hours before his brother wakes up. Maybe he can get some packing done. Moving his set-up would make it painfully obvious that he was leaving, and Bro might prevent him from doing so. So he just takes a trash bag and starts stuffing his clothes in it. Yanking his various outfits from the hangers, and shoving them into the black crinkly plastic void without another thought. Well, actually there is one thought, and that is that these clothes will definitely end up wrinkly. Too bad he never learned how to fold them. He knows how to do laundry, he’d protest, but he never bothered to fold them afterward. Just hooked them onto hangers to store away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon his closet was empty. It was 4. There were more clothes than he’d initially thought, but all of them fit into the trash bag. Now, to deal with the cans of soup and the stash of apple juice. Should he bring them? It’s not like the family he’s going to stay with needs them. They probably got their own food, stored away in the fridge. Instead of stuffing it with swords. Y’know, like normal people do, apparently. He’ll set to work on packing away the rest of his precious belongings later, when Bro’s at work. Then he remembers he’s heading to another country, and most likely will have to haul his luggage all the way to the airport. He glances at the trash bag. Looks like he can’t bring all of his clothes. And another glance at his turntables. Those can’t come either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>5 o’clock. He’s managed to stuff a week’s worth of clothes into his backpack, and a phone. The rest of his clothes are all back on their hangers in his closet. He decides to grab that picture of Ben Stiller that John gave him along with his shades on his birthday. For sentimental and ironic purposes. He hides his backpack deep inside his closet. Maybe he can catch some shut-eye before Bro wakes him up. Or attempts to, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once his head hits the pillow, he’s out cold, dreaming of the moment he’ll finally head out the door, and never come back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well this came out, early.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Flights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Planes. Planes. So much planes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>( Also I got kinda lazy at the end but uh whoops )</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kankri really doesn’t get paid enough for this. Really, he doesn’t. He’s supposed to stay awake for 2 whole days to get some foreign transferee who is somehow related to his suspected-constantly-wasted coworker, and let him stay at his house. But, he does owe her a gigantic solid, and he’s made it a point to do anything at least once. So when he gets home that day, he starts preparing the guest bedroom. Understandably, his siblings are surprised at this development, and deciding their homework collectively is less important than figuring out what the heck their older brother is doing, they tumble out of their rooms and appear in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p><em>(“ ‘Ya, why are you fixing the guest bedroom? Are we supposed to be expecting anyone today?”)</em> Karkat asks, leaning against the doorframe lazily. <em>(“Tomorrow I have a business flight. Roxy asked me to pick up her nephew all the way from Houston, Texas.”)</em> He answers, smoothing out the clean bed sheet. <em>(“Also, stop calling me ‘ya, it’s not exactly the most polite form of the word. Really I’m just looking out for you just in case someone older than me gets offended by you just shortening our terms of supposed endearment. Why is it even endearing? I don’t know. But still.”)</em> He looks back at the two kids now staring at him, Karkat just looking at him completely dumbfounded, and Nepeta holding a hand over her mouth to quiet herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Kuya Kankri, can I speak now?” Nepeta says in the quietest voice imaginable. “Uhm, yes, sorry bunso.” Kankri goes out of the room and pushes them both into the living room. Karkat is the first to hop over the couch and land on it with a soft pomf. “So someone will be living with us? Someone from America?” She takes a seat beside her grumbling angry brother, and Kankri takes a seat on the wooden chair beside it. “Yes. Basically. Be nice to him, he’s related to my co-teacher alright?” The girl nods furiously, it’s borderline headbanging. She tucks the hair that landed in front of her face behind her ear. “At least you speaking only English all the time will be useful.” Kankri watches on in amusement as his younger sibling receives an onslaught of soft punches on his arm, with the youngest protesting in Tagalog that <em>(“I CAN SPEAK TAGALOG TOO OKAY??!!”)</em></p><p> </p><p>They decide to have an early dinner, since he has to wake up at 2 and head to the airport by 3. The eldest sets the table while his siblings bicker about their day. Soon, a platter of nice freshly cooked rice comes into view, as well as a bowl of hot pork sinigang. <em>(“You think this kid will be picky about eating? Do we have to make him his own viands or something?”)</em> Obviously, he shouldn’t be. Hopefully. <em>(“I don’t think he’s so rude as to not eat food given to him.”)</em> Kankri answers his brother. “How was school for both of you?” He continues. And again, the conversation dissolves into stories about weird classmates, advisers, and the upcoming class elections. He likes this. A lot. He wouldn’t trade his siblings for anything else in the world.</p><p> </p><p>Soon they finish eating, and when the dishes are all washed and put away, and the table wiped clean, they all head to bed. They all pile into the same bed, with Kankri at the center, hugging both- Okay Karkat’s not doing the hugging, alright, neither is Nepeta, mhm. Sometimes he forgets they’re not tiny little babies anymore. He sighs, sets his alarm for 2 AM, and drifts off to sleep.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Kamukha mo siiiii Paraluman~ Nung tayo’y bata pa-”</em> Waking up to Eraserhead songs really helps you forget that you’re about to go halfway round the globe. He carefully gets out of bed, making sure not to wake up either of his siblings. <em>(“The blanket…”)</em> Karkat groans, and nabs the rest of the blanket, pulling it over his head. <em>(“Blanket…”)</em> Nepeta sneaks into the cocoon of blanket (*kucoon?). They engage in a little blanket tugging war. Cracking a smile, he gets up and goes to the kitchen to heat up some water. He pulls out his phone. </p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> began pestering</b> <b class="roxy">tipsyGnostalgic [TG]</b></p><p> </p><p class="kankri">IC: R9xy I really h9pe that this kid is w9rth waking up at 2 in the g9gdamned m9rning for. </p><p class="roxy">TG: he’s a good kid, he’s worth the trouble</p><p class="kankri">IC: What are y9u even d9ing up at this hour? Y9u have w9rk t9day and a daughter t9 send to sch99l!</p><p class="roxy">TG: simple, i neeedd some water, besides, rose rcan take care of herself, she's ua big lgir now</p><p class="roxy">TG: *needed</p><p class="roxy">TG: *can</p><p class="roxy">TG: *a</p><p class="roxy">TG: *girl</p><p class="kankri">IC: D9n't 69ther c9rrecting y9urself it's a waste 9f 69th time and l9ad. Are y9u sure that's water y9u're drinking and n9t v9dka? D9 I have t9 lecture y9u this early in the m9rning a69ut what drinking that much alc9h9l will d9 t9 y9ur liver?</p><p class="roxy">TG: jeegus why do yoou even insist on that headachey typing uquirk of yours i can barely eread it</p><p class="kankri">IC: Headachey isn't a w9rd and y9u and I 69th kn9w that. Anyway I think it makes me l99k unique, and relata6le. I wished my high sch99l AP teacher was this relata6le I'll tell y9u that. I c9uld 6arely even understand any hist9ry fr9m her, which is a great injustice, 6ecause Philippine Hist9ry is a fascinating t9pic.</p><p class="roxy">TG: wue get it kankan you're smart vnow pleiase go pick up my neprhew, maybe? please?</p><p class="kankri">IC: I'm already getting ready t9 leave. Just, s96er up and sleep s9me m9re. Expect me t9 update y9u as s99n as I land in America.</p><p class="roxy">TG: you're all work and barely any mplay, c'mon let me havse thissss oooonne drink?</p><p class="kankri">IC: G99d night, R9xy.</p><p class="roxy">TG: kankriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii</p><p class="kankri">IC: G99D NIGHT, R9XY.</p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> stopped pestering</b> <b class="roxy">tipsyGnostalgic [TG]</b></p><p> </p><p>That woman was a piece of work. The kettle whistles, telling Kankri that it’s hot, steamy, and ready. He winces thinking of that description in the context of a kettle (it’s a KETTLE!) and takes it by the handle using a pot holder. He empties the contents into the big and sturdy plastic pail in the bathroom, puts it back on the stove, and starts adding water. It takes a fairly good amount of water for it to reach the optimal temperature, which is to say a nice warm hug. He strips down, puts his dirty clothes into the ever-growing heap in the hamper (they should really do the laundry soon), and starts pouring water on himself with the dipper. The water’s so pleasantly warm, he ends up staying there for a solid half hour. Suffice to say he’s basically stumbling into his pants when he gets out of the bathroom, hair wrapped up in the towel so that it’s out of the way. He slips on a button-up polo and some jeans, and yanks a red sweater off a hanger. By 2:50 he’s out the door, armed with the airplane tickets, a pack of gum, his wallet, his power bank, his phone and his watch. He realizes he hasn’t had breakfast, and grabs some pandesal from the bread basket. He hops into the car, while eating some bread, and drives to the airport.</p><p> </p><p>It takes almost two hours to get to the airport. This is why you always leave early. He catches the flight just in time, and boards the plane. He feels so tired. It doesn’t take much effort aside from him closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep. When he wakes up they’re way up in the sky and his ears feel stuffed. He breaks out a piece of gum and starts quietly chewing on it. Hopefully it’ll satiate his need for food a little bit so that he doesn’t spend too much money on it. When the attendant comes by with the cart, he only buys a bottle of water. He isn’t going to waste 249 pesos on melas he could make at home. He glances at the time on his phone. It’s still adjusted to Philippine time, so it reads 2:16 PM. Wow, that was a really long nap. He glances at his seatmate. She’s busy reading a book. It’s about werewolves, and it’s a romance novel. Oooohh, one of those. Kankri’s willing to bet Karkat would read it, not exactly to enjoy it, but to rant about in his column in the school newspaper.</p><p> </p><p>He decides to pull out his phone and plug in his earphones, and read something. What would he read, you ask? He has a Wattpad account, so obviously whatever he saved in it. As of right now, however, he’s taken to reading one of his student’s works, Complacency of the Learned. It’s just really good, at least in his humble opinion. But of course, as any self-respecting person would do, he’s downloaded a bunch of other books, trashy romance novels and fanfiction that make it painfully obvious that the writer is probably around his sister’s age. But he still has some good stuff stashed away, a select few fics he pulled from AO3. They’re mighty beasts, 40+ chapters averaging 30K words per chapter (he wonders who has the time to write that much), that, if the situation is that desperate, will fill the hours in with tales of wonder and awe instead of the boring hum of the thoughts in his mind. Yes, even he gets bored of his own lectures. When you’re this conscious of any sort of offensive content in your head, it starts getting boring when you apologize to the constructs in your mind about them.</p><p> </p><p>The hours whittle away. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Surprise smut? Not into that, skip! More reading, MORE READING. The very fibers of your being start to unravel. Oh, it’s starting to go low bat, time to plug in the power bank. Your sense of self is lost in the words. Words, words, words. It’s all just blending together, the words barely make sense but you feel it in your soul. You feel trapped in a cage of your own making. Fly, birdy, fly!</p><p> </p><p>It is done. He has finished it. He has finished about four books. Is he happy? Will he ever be happy? His stomach grumbles with anger. He checks the time. 10:00 PM. That, explains a lot actually. He finally gives in and gets an actual meal. The attendant gives him a little pack of food, mixed seafood in oyster sauce with rice. Mmm. He says a little prayer before promptly digging in. It’s not the best thing he’s ever tasted, obviously, but it’s a gogsend to his stomach which hasn’t eaten a proper meal literally the entire day. He consumes it quickly, they’re landing in an hour.</p><p> </p><p>The plane safely lands on the runway. Kankri feels more drained than if he overtimed at work after a day of dealing with the seventh graders. Oh boy, can’t wait to literally do this all over again in a few hours. So great. They disembark the airplane, and while walking from Arrivals to Departures, he pulls out his phone. Alert the kid he’s here, y’know.</p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> began pestering</b> <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: This is Dave Strider, am I c9rrect?</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">TG: uh yeah whos this</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: I’m a friend 9f y9ur aunt’s.</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">TG: oh no murder dude are you okay??</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: Murder what?</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">TG: uuuuh nothing nothing but i guess this is my go signal to go to the airport??</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: Yeah, 6asically.</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">TG: cool, cool cool cool. whose name am i gonna have to shout in departures like a lost victorian child finding their mother</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: Just call me Kankri, and please f9r the l9ve of g9g d9n’t yell my name in here.</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="dave">TG: whatever makes you happy chief</b>
</p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> stopped pestering</b> <b class="dave">turntechGodhead [TG]</b></p><p> </p><p>Oh right, one more thing.</p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> began pestering</b> <b class="roxy">tipsyGnostalgic [TG]</b></p><p> </p><p>
  <b class="kankri">IC: I’ve landed in the USA, n9w waiting f9r y9ur nephew.</b>
</p><p> </p><p><b class="kankri">insufferableCrabmeat [IC]</b><b class="pesterlog"> stopped pestering</b> <b class="roxy">tipsyGnostalgic [TG]</b></p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>About 30 minutes go by. He’s in the middle of one of the lower quality fanfics (controversial crack ship, he likes to discuss the ethics of the ship in his head), and has been sitting on the floor for a while, when suddenly he hears his name being shouted out. “KANKRIIIII??? WHERE’S KANKRIIII?? I’M HERE, DUDE, WHERE ARE YOU???” The man sighs, dusts his butt off, and heads to the source of the yelling. He finds a lanky young male, probably no older than his brother, donning aviator shades and a red and white t-shirt with a picture of a CD in the middle. His hair is a light blonde, and freckles are scattered across his face and neck. Kankri feels a bit embarrassed since this kid is probably about 15 and he’s as tall as him, who’s like 25. “Strider, you can stop yelling.” He crosses his arms, and for a moment Dave(?) shuts up. “Sorry man, just didn’t know what you looked like.” His voice is a little higher than he expected, but it’s not like that’s much of a problem. There’s this awkward silence for a while, until the younger male breaks it. “Uh, when’s the flight?” He glances at the clock. “About 1 o’clock, we have about one and a half hours left.” Dave only responds with a thumbs up. “What’re we going to do ‘till then?” He walks back to where he was sitting earlier and plops himself back down on the floor. “I don’t know about you but I’m going to read.” He goes back to reading on his phone. “I was thinking we could talk some, though, haha. Considering I’m gonna be staying in another country and with you guys for a year, I was thinking about what I needed to know.” Kankri quirks an eyebrow at this.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather give you the crash course when we get home. Kinda tired right now.” Before he can turn back to his phone, he gets another question. “You and I both might be out cold by the time we get there though, but, whatever.” As his eyes drift back onto the screen, he answers. “Look kid, if you really want a lesson on Philippine culture and I’m knocked out cold before I can even start my awesome and comprehensive lecture, just ask my brother. He’ll probably be more pissy about it than I would be, but it would serve the same function well enough.” Dave seems to concede to this as he nods and pulls out a sketchpad and a pencil and starts to draw. Kankri doesn’t really mind what the kid draws as long as he doesn’t wander off. He plugs his earphones in, and lets himself be lulled to calmness by the music.</p><p> </p><p>He’s snapped out of the lull when his companion shakes him. “Kankri it’s like 5 minutes before the boarding time.” Ohhhh crapshine. He immediately stands up and yanks the poor kid off the ground. “Alright we’re running-” Dave manages to sputter out before he gets yoinked. And they book it to the terminal. They manage to make it, not without a weird look from the guy letting them in though. They plop their butts down onto the seats. The man resolves to just sleep the rest of the flight. Dave, however, seems a bit nervous. “What, you’ve never ridden a plane before?” He asks as he pulls out his gum. “Well, I have, but not to like, another country.” He hands him a piece of gum. He looks at it a bit questioningly(? It’s hard to tell with his shades on. Why is he even wearing shades? Not judging though.) before popping it into his mouth. “Don’t sweat it. Just, I dunno, vibe. Is that what kids say these days?” He closes his eyes again. “You’ll be fine, kid. P.S. Don’t wake me up unless we’re there.” Before Dave can protest, Kankri’s out cold like a hibernating bear.</p><p> </p><p>When the bear eases out of his hibernation, he sees Dave shaking him again. “Huh, what, who?” He looks around him. No people. “How deeply do you sleep?? Everyone got off before you could wake up.” He sees the mass collection of instant noodle cups this kid has accumulated and sighs a little. “Damn, that’s a lot of instant no-” The flight attendant sternly asks them to disembark already. They oblige, and get off the plane. They’re greeted with a big banner that says ‘Welcome to the Philippines’. Kind of on the nose in terms of a writing perspective but hey, it gets the point across.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome home, kid. Welcome home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>* the Filipino/Tagalog word for blanket is kumot. so kumot + cocoon is kucoon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Car Drive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kankri and Dave head home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His nerves are wrecked, dude. Dave’s surrounded by people. Not like, just a crowd. Like, people who are staring at him. Sure, it’s only a quick second or two but still. Logically, he knows they mean nothing by it but, man he’s not used to people’s eyes on him. He tries not to give away his discomfort by putting on a cool facade, but Kankri just takes one look at him and says, “Don’t worry, they aren’t judging you. You’re just, kinda tall. And blonde. And… white.” All he can say in response is an ‘oh’. They head down to the airport’s parking lot and Dave follows the man to an old Toyota Corolla. He unlocks the door and gets in, quickly unlocking the passenger door from the inside. Before he could say ‘get in’, the boy’s already settled into the seat, seatbelt on and more relaxed than earlier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they drive out, he can’t help but look out. Wow, Manila is… well it’s alive. People are walking to and from places, and all the buildings are lit up because it’s night. Casinos, hotels, malls, all of them big and sprawling and glamorous. “How long ‘till we get to your house?“ He asks, staring out the window. “2 hours, just about. Probably longer.” Wow, is Manila that big?  “I’m not that good at geography but pretty sure if you live in this city it shouldn’t take that long to get home.” Kankri laughs at this. What’s so funny? “You thought I lived here? Not in a million years. Manila is pretty but it’s too much, y’know? At least for me.” Right, the Philippines is an entire country, Manila isn’t the only city. Duh. “Then where do you live?” He asks, sinking into his seat out of embarrassment. “I know my accent doesn’t really show it but we live in Tanauan, Batangas.” He didn’t really notice any sort of accent when his companion spoke but now that he’s pointed it out he can hear the slightest hint of an accent. Or maybe he’s just imagining it because Kankri said it was there. Nah it’s definitely there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tuh-naah-wan?” He attempts to pronounce it, earning a chuckle for his efforts. “Ah, well that’s better than most foreigners. Karkat’s probably gonna flip his lid if you ever try to pronounce anything resembling Filipino though, at least right now. Good thing there’s that Filipino for international students program.” Wait, who was that? Just a bit earlier? “Did you just say Karkat?” They reach a stoplight. Kankri turned his face to look at his passenger, quirking an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, my younger brother.” Oh man oh boy. “What was your last name again?” He holds his breath, for no particular reason.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Vantas? Never told you that though.” Oh gog, it’s a bullseye. “Oooooh man. Wow. Okay. Wait I’m just processing that.” Now that he thinks about it, he wonders why he hasn’t connected the dots earlier. Kankri kind of looks like an older Karkat, at least based on the photo in the newspaper. The light goes green and they start moving again. “Weirdo, haha. Where’d you hear about him?” He hesitates answering, thinking it might make him look like a stalker. “Uh, the school newspaper.” The man just gives a mighty shrug. “Makes sense, we made it public after all. I’m guessing you like his weird ramblings? I read the ones about the teacher crushes, and yes before you ask they were all directed at me, he even hit me over the head with the physical copies of those issues.” He just nods. The man shuts his yapper with a click, realizing he might be talking a little too much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A solid 30 minutes or so pass by, just listening to the radio and staring out the window. He can’t really understand the words, but he catches bits and pieces of English, and some bits of stuff that kind of sounds Spanish. The music is nice though. The silence is broken by both of their stomachs growling. “There’s a McDo down the road, we can get some food from there.” Ah, Mickey D’s, a familiar name. “Nice, finally some real food.” He smirks when Kankri’s semi-serene expression falters a bit. “You aren’t slick, I could tell that was Gordon Ramsay.” Success. “How is fast food real food? What kind of standards do you have?” It was supposed to be a joke, he could tell, but that just, hit a little too close to home. “Low ones, apparently.” He makes sure to say it as even as possible, not betraying any emotions. Seems like he doesn't pick up on any, luckily. “In your defense, I couldn’t replicate those chicken nuggets even if I tried.” Damn right, the nuggets were really good. Another few minutes pass and they pull into the drive-through. A lady takes their order, a double cheeseburger for Dave and a chicken sandwich for Kankri. He scarfs down the burger within a few minutes. Mmm. That’s the stuff.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me, Strider.” The red sweater-wearing man says as he takes a bite while driving. “What made you think of applying to be a scholar here in the first place? The Philippines isn’t exactly known for education.” He feels dread pool in his stomach. “My cousin told me about it. No other particular reason.” Kankri quirks his eyebrow in doubt. “Uh, that’s an awfully shallow reason. Suspiciously shallow.” He takes another bite. “Well it’s still a reason.” He huffs out. What’s this guy’s deal anyway? It’s too late for this kind of crap. Thankfully, he just leaves it at that. His face grows slightly guilty. “Sorry, if I hit a nerve or anything. I usually pride myself on being the most inoffensive conversationalist ever but I seem to be missing the mark.” He shrugs it off. “No big deal, man. Since we have a while anyway, could you tell me what the school is like?” At this, his face lights up. Dave feels a sense of impending doom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well for starters it’s got a lot of facilities. There’s the classrooms, the football field, the canteen, the gardens, the covered court, another covered court, and personally I think the cherry on top is the giant two floor library. All of the teachers are good at what they do, I should know they’re all my friends, oh and there’s this giant statue of… something. We have NO idea what it is but the students like to sit in it. I keep telling them to not sit on it, because I’m pretty damn sure that the artist didn’t want anyone putting their filthy filthy hands on it. Speaking of filthy hands...” He rambles on in this fashion, talking about how the kids keep vandalizing the bathroom with writings of cusswords and ships and drawings of various genitalia and fecal matter, how wild events in the school can get, and so on. Dave listens as best he can, trying to filter out the actually important parts, but his eyes start to feel like molasses. Kankri’s voice becomes background noise, blending with the music on the radio, as he drifts off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This time it’s his turn to be shaken awake. “Hey, kid, we’re here.” He slowly opens his eyes. Promptly, they both get out of the car, Kankri reminds him to lock the door before closing, and he sees a nice comfy house. It seems to have only one floor, and a red gate surrounds it. The man starts to fiddle around in his pockets for his keys, when suddenly the light by the door on the house flickers on. <em> “Kuya, ikaw ba yan?” </em> A voice asks from inside. <em> “Oo, ba’t ka pa gising?” </em> It was kind of jarring to hear him speak another language, since for the time they’ve been together he’s been speaking only in English. They can hear the sound of a wooden door unlocking and opening, and the screen door swings open to reveal…. Karkat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They say meeting your idols in real life is intimidating. Dave can attest to this personally now. Even if he’s wearing baggy pajama shorts and a neon green t-shirt that’s emblazoned with the text ‘This shirt glows when I’m ignoring you’, with his curls sticking out in every which way. <em> “Sino ‘to?” </em> Karkat says, gesturing to him as he quickly unlocks the gate and opens it. Kankri steps inside, and he does this weird thing where he grabs his older brother’s hand and puts the back of it to his forehead. <em> “Bisita natin. 'Di ga sinabihan na kita?” </em> Alright, he might not be able to speak the language, and he’s fairly certain this is a different dialect judging from the sound of the people on the radio earlier, but he’s sure they’re talking about him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to meet you. Dave Strider.”He says, lacing his voice with that patented Strider Charm, hoping to disguise any sort of excitement or nervousness. He extends his hand out to shake, but he just gives the guy a look. “Karkat Vantas.” He’s kind of astonished at how polished his English sounds. He honestly thought there would be a bit of an accent like his brother’s but, no. It sounds like he came from Colorado or something. “I know.” Oh wow that came off creepy. Seems like Karkat agrees, as his mostly neutral face starts to lean towards nervousness. “How do you know?” He starts fumbling around for words, trying to salvage any evidence that he is not, in fact, a creep. “Read your articles.” The boy still looks at him in disbelief. “Mhm, cute save.” He turns his back and heads inside. Kankri follows, and motions for him to come in. He can’t help but listen in on their conversation despite not understanding a word they’re saying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “ 'Di mo na sinagot yung tanong ko, ba’t ka pa gising?” </em> He says as he takes off his sweater. <em> “Baka mamaya maya kasi 'di mo nadala yung susi, at 'di mo nga nadala.” </em> He holds up a keychain with a few keys on it, jingling them as if to taunt his brother. <em> “Edi ‘sensya na. Akin na nga.” </em>Immediately the keys are snatched and Kankri swiftly walks past Dave, the blond swerving out of the way. He closes the screen door with a click, shuts the wooden door and puts a key inside the keyhole above the doorknob, swiftly locking it. The keys are put in a box, Kankri and Karkat continue to talk, and Dave, oh Dave, is just standing there, silently listening but not understanding a single word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, after a few more minutes of bickering, the younger brother rolls his eyes and goes off. Presumably to bed. “Sorry about that, he gets cranky when it’s past his bedtime.” He snickers at this. “You talk about him as if he’s in grade school, dude.” Kankri starts walking, and he trails not too far behind. “Alright, this is where you’re staying.” He flicks the light on, and it’s a nice looking room. A single bed is pushed to the left corner, the bedsheet a nice cream color, a pillow with a folded woven blanket beside it. A simple brown closet is pushed to the right corner, a small bedside table and an electric fan stand at the foot of the bed. There’s a window right by the head of the bed, with billowy white curtains. “I assume you want to slee-” He gets cut off by Dave pushing past him, throwing his backpack into the closet, and then his entire body onto the bed. He’s out cold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kankri can’t help but smile to himself, being reminded of his own siblings sleeping next door. He turns on the fan, closes the lights, and shuts the door. Sweet dreams, Strider.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>school really do be stabbing me in the brain rn :(( hope ya'll are doing ok!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Mornings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Vantases prepare for school, featuring special guest Dave Strider.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Oh no, what's happened to Soho? Oh no, where will all the reprobates go? Oh no, what's happened to-” The song gets cut off by Karkat turning the alarm off. It’s the fourth day of school, currently about 4:30 AM. Nepeta is still asleep on the bed, she’s got until 5 o’clock. He quickly slips into his house slippers and hurries to the bathroom to do his business. No, I’m not elaborating what his business in the bathroom is, you filthy rascal. He gets out, still only half-awake, and spots his brother starting on breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Morning, Karkat.” Kankri greets him as he cracks about 4 eggs into a bowl.</span>
  <em>
    <span> (“There’s some hot water in the thermos, you can make yourself some Milo.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>He does so, his stomach not really tolerating having absolutely nothing in it. He grabs a packet of it from the table and quickly dumps the contents into the mug, then pours hot water on it. He stirs it a bit and sips some of it. Finally, his stomach stops making a riot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Is our guest going to school today or are we going to let him hibernate in there?”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>He continues sipping his Milo. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Yeah, actually, wake him up when this is finished. Get started on cooking the rice, please.”) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“What are you making though, scrambled eggs?”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> Karkat asks as he grabs the pot from the rice cooker and starts to scoop rice into it. Three cups should be enough. His brother answers the question with an ‘mhm’, and gets to work on draining the mushrooms and grating some cheese. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Hey, Karkat, how much cheese you want in these?”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asks as he washes the rice, bumping into his shoulder a bit as he reaches for the grater. “A normal amount.” He starts adding in water form the blue container, measuring the water level with his finger, as one SHOULD do. “A normal amount for you is like a quarter of this block of Eden.” Wiping the pot dry just in case, and plopping it into the rice cooker, pressing the button, and covering it with the lid, he shoots a look at Kankri.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault your delicate tongues can’t handle the taste of cheese.” He returns to his mug of Milo. Still hot, good. He sips it again.</span>
  <em>
    <span> (“Maybe one day you’ll realize eating salty food isn’t the healthiest thing in the world.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>His brother still grates in about a fourth of the block.</span>
  <em>
    <span> (“You need any help?”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> Karkat moves to grab a pan and start frying the mushrooms, but his brother stops him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Nah, just wake up our guest. Don’t be too mean.”)  </span>
  </em>
  <span>An indignant huff, a small glare, and a roll of the eyes later, he’s headed to the guest room, mug in hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Karkat opens the door to the room, greeted by the sight of their guest sprawled out on the bed, still wearing the clothes he wore when he got there last night. He flicks the lights on. “Wake up.” Strider groans, moving to cover his eyes with his hands. “Isn’t it… too early??” He asks, only slightly parting his fingers to see his phone and check the time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “ ‘ts still insanely early man… Let me sleep…” His eyes feel like they could recede to the back of his head. He gets jet lag is a thing but still, they aren’t gonna let a stranger stay alone in their house. “The service comes in less than an hour. Get up.” Another groan is heard. “How about no. Turn off the lights, man.” Hatching a brilliant plan in his mind, he fakes a sigh and turns them off. Strider uncovers his eyes. Now’s his chance. Quickly, he flicks them on again. His guest’s eyes instinctively close. “What the hell man?? Fine, I’m up, I’m up.” His eyes still squeezed shut, he sits on the side of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Satisfied with the outcome, Vantas clicks his tongue and goes back to the kitchen. Strider lags behind a little bit after, wearing red-tinted glasses. They look similar in appearance to the shades he wore coming to their house last night. Why was he even wearing shades at night? So many dang questions and it’s like 5-something in the gogdamn AM, we aren’t doing this. The rice cooker clicks to the warm setting. Rice is done. Putting down his mug, he unplugs it from the socket and sets down a ceramic pot coaster, placing the hot pot of rice onto the table with a gentle thud. Right on time too, as Kankri swiftly places down a plate with a nice omelette, mushrooms and cheese evenly dispersed throughout.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s distracted as he eats his food. Nepeta is as sloppy in eating as ever, you would think she would be more careful considering she’s already showered and dressed, but no. Kankri is just quietly destroying the contents of his plate, as per usual, and then there’s Strider. The guy’s just staring at his food like it’s an alien, with gray skin and horns, an oddly specific example frankly. Has he never seen actual food before? Ever? “Hey, it’s not polite to stare. At your food or at your guest.” His brother reminds, grabbing the attention of the boys. Shoot, was he staring? He rolls his eyes and shovels his food into his mouth, like the rest of his gross family. Strider still seems hesitant on eating it, but as soon as that first bite hits his mouth he’s basically vacuuming the contents of the plate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>The youngest Vantas quickly finishes her food first, raising a fist in the air declaring victory. To both of the brothers’ surprise, Dave offers her a high-five. “Nice work kid.” She smiles wide and smacks her hand against his outstretched palm. The loud sound basically reverberates and he’s surprised that the guy doesn’t even flinch. Even he can’t handle Nepeta’s high-five, and she’s been giving them for basically their entire lives.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span> <span>Impressive high-five resilience, but absolutely slow at taking showers. Somehow this prick takes even more time than his sister. Sure it gives him ample time to peruse Tumblr and AO3 but they’re on an actual schedule and Kankri looks about ready to blow this politeness-popsicle stand and start knocking. And he’s about to. But just as his hand is about to make sweet sweet shocking contact with the thin metal sheet of a door, it swings open to reveal a guy with wet hair, a red hoodie, and black jeans. They seem to be a little too big on him, but he can’t really tell. He’s wearing red contact lenses, aviator shades dangling from the neckline of his hoodie. It kind of reminds him of Rose, with her penchant for hiding behind a purple pair. Actually now that he thinks about it they look really similar. What was her middle name again?</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know no one is immune to the Strider Charm, patent pending, but I have to break it to you now, I don’t do guys.” He snaps out of it, and quickly goes back to not exactly liking him. “You ever think that maybe it’s just because you look weird as all heck?” Rolling his eyes, he pushes past the guy. “For your information, neither do I.” He quickly makes his way into the shower, uniform and towel in hand, and attempts to close the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Attempts, because Kankri grabs the handle of the door, swings it open, and shuts it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Really, Kuya? You know I take five minutes to shower, tops.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>Karkat says, taking off his shirt. He looks down at his belly. It’s a little too chubby, he thinks. At least a little too chubby for Terezi’s taste, maybe? Just considering that currently Wait, why is he thinking about Pyrope right now? Ugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“Geez, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before. I was there to see you get born, I used to bathe you when you were a baby, you know? And we bathed together up until-”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> His brother’s tirade is cut short by a dirty shirt thrown in his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Until I was 8, I know.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>He quickly hops in the shower after getting his clothes off. They quickly shower, well, as quick as Kankri would let it be. Karkat’s already in his uniform while his brother is held up by the sink post-shower, towel around his waist, flossing. FLOSSING. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“How much longer are you going to take contorting your ugly face in front of the mirror? It’s about to scream in agony because it had to endure you aggressively flashing your-”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> He glares into the mirror for effect, concentrating on looking at the teeth “-not-so-pearly whites.” This earns him a deadpan stare, and he bursts out of the bathroom cackling like a witch. Nepeta and Strider both look at him, seemingly halted mid-conversation. His sister smirks, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Kuya’s about to burst out of there mad isn’t he?” He returns the look. “You know it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But before that can happen, a loud beep heralds the arrival of their service. The two siblings share eye contact for a second, and start sprinting towards the door. Backpacks are flung, guests are haplessly thrown into a vehicle, and a fuming mad brother steps out of the doorway to see his three charges are off, with the youngest Vantas going so far as to opening the door of the service and sitting on the step, assumedly clinging onto the feet of the bench inside for dear life as she shouts a goodbye at him, quickly clambering back in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Karkat settles into his seat by the door, seeing some people have decided to nap. Good, the mornings are always quiet. Nepeta has quickly switched sides so that she can nap on her brother’s arm. And Strider seems to take advantage of the quiet too, lolling his head back onto the window and dozing off within a few minutes. Slowly, the service fills with more and more people. Soon, they get to a familiar green-roofed house. An impeccably groomed young woman walks in, with a pointy bob and a make-up enhanced face. She does seem to be wearing one of her more fashion-questionable choices today, a neon colored poofy-sleeved jacket with her more tailored version of their uniform. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, Kanaya.” He greets her. “Morning, Karkat.” She says as she takes a seat between two of their servicemates, mildly waking them up to tell them to scoot over. Taking note of the odd one out that’s currently asleep, she leans forward. He leans forward as well. “Who is the new kid?” She asks, barely whispering. “Apparently Ma’am Lalonde’s nephew. Going off of that, he’s probably Rose’s cousin.” She glances at him. “I can see it.” He rolls his eyes teasingly. “Of course you would, wouldn’t you? You both are basically glued at the hip when I catch you two hanging out.” At this, she gives a semi-strained laugh. He catches this, but doesn’t mention it. Eventually they continue on to topics like homework and the first few weeks of school.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And eventually, a yellow service van reaches the gates of a school, with various people of all ages either chatting or playing. The kids pile out, Karkat steps out of the vehicle with a deep breath, Nepeta stumbles out and rushes off, Kanaya starts to walk off to who knows where, and it just feels like a normal school morning. That is until Strider stands behind him as if the significantly shorter boy will hide his lanky body. He sighs and just continues on forward with this guy trailing behind him like a lost puppy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This might be a longer day than usual.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>(ps here's what a school service looks like in case you're accustomed to buses)<br/><br/>(the seats are basically two long benches that sit across each other, which is why Kanaya and Karkat lean forward to have their conversation)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH i'm sorry this took so long school is really a bitch :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Class</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nepeta attends her fourth day of school!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fourth day of school! Yes!!!! Well, maybe not really yes with that many exclamation points, but Nepeta can’t help it. Thursday is club day, and club day means that the anime club the school opened recently will need members, and you know what that means. She rushes into the classroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s as lively as ever, so far she can spot some of the musicians who brought their guitar for club day and is currently jamming with a few other people. In the corner she can see some of the more rowdy boys huddle together playing Mobile Legends or PUBG or something. In another corner, however, on a desk chair sits a young boy whose uniform is currently unbuttoned. A young boy with shoulder length hair, shades held together by tape, and muscle mass enhanced by exercise and puberty that hit him like a train. A train that she could guess he could crush with his grip strength.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Equius!” She shouts. He looks up sharply from whatever it was he was doing. What ‘it’ was, she doesn’t know, because he seems to be guarding it with a passion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“Good morning, Nepeta.”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> He straightens his sitting position. “Whatcha workin’ on?” She attempts to look at whatever he’s hiding in his hands, probably invading his personal space or whatever. But it’s okay, they’re BFFs, it should be fine. Even with this close proximity however, it isn’t enough, as he’s tucked it away in his pocket. She frowns, and crosses her arms as she slumps into the seat next to him (of course calling out to the owner of the chair who gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not fun today, are you?” He huffs at the accusation. “Why are you still even using English anyway? You are an AP teacher’s sister.” A frown tugs on her face. “I just like using English, what’s the problem with that?” She plays with the tassel on her sling bag. “Nothing, but we do live in the Philippines.” It’s been only four days since she’s actually gotten close to this guy but it feels like he’ll drone on in this direction for ages. Like, that’s significantly more worse than her brother. “And point being?” She shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Let’s jump off this boring train and move to another one, it’s club day!” Clapping excitedly, she pulls out a tiny notebook from her bag. “Gameplan is to visit all the clubs, but priority number one being the anime club!” Alongside the written list of clubs is a small doodle of Nepeta and Equius assumedly at said club, with the words ‘Heck Yeah’ written on the bottom. He takes a look at it, and makes a weird face. “I don’t look that sweaty, do I?” He says worriedly to the girl next to him. “No, but it’s fun to exaggerate.” Either way, it makes him reach for the small face towel in his bag, and he wrings his hands through it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides, would it not be more productive to go with the culture club? Or the computer league?” She thinks about it for a moment. “Well those do sound fun, but I’ve been waiting to join an anime club for forever. Like, forever forever!” She stretches her hands out, nearly swatting her best friend in the face. “Like thiiiiiiis much!” He gently pushes her hand out of the way and assumes his ‘Convincing Posture’. Well she labels it like that in her head, partly because it reminds her of both of her brother’s self-titled Convincing Postures. “Nepeta, those two clubs have more to offer than the one you want to join-” She opens her mouth to speak but he shushes her. She glares at him as he continues to speak. “One delves into the truly unique and incomparable culture of the Philippines, and the other is robots. Robots, Nepeta, robots. Goodness knows we need a better STEM educa-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time it’s her turn to shush him. “I know you’re looking out for me but… we’re in grade 7. You sound like a bitter old man trying to tell me about the better days. Bless po, *Lolo Equius.” She quickly grabs his hand and smacks the backside to her forehead. He reels back from the gesture, rubbing the reddening spot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“That hurt.”)</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sneers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“On the inside or outside?”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looks at her, completely serious. “Both.” They sustain this tense staring competition for a few seconds, before absolutely bursting into laughter. Equius howls with laughter, some people behind him do a double-take before going back to their circle. Nepeta’s head is buried in the desk, and she’s repeatedly slamming her fist on it, the screws rattling loose with every hit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon the whole classroom hears heavy footsteps approaching the classroom. Oh no. The best friends share a good best-friend handshake that they made up on the first day before the end. Nepeta stumbles back to her seat and crashes into it with a thud. The boy next to her, Tavros she believes his name is, shys away from her sudden crash landing. “The end is nigh, Tavros.” She covers her face with her hands. He glances momentarily at his slightly overdramatic seatmate, and looks back at his notebook. “It’s… just our adviser.” He stutters out. “Exactly.” She fake-sobs into her hands. “It’s our adviser.” He rolls his eyes at this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Click, clack, click. Never in her life has Nepeta been this terrified of the sound of heels. Maybe they mistook ‘chill’ for cold when they were talking about her. Click. Clack. The door opens to reveal a woman with glossy waist length hair, and a look on her face that could turn a boiling pot into a popsicle in an instant. The class all rise hurriedly from their seats. “Good morning, Ma’am Maryam!” They all say in unison. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(“I thought I told you all to call me Ma’am Porrim, now I feel old. You can sit down now.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pinches the bridge of her nose. They all do, and she proceeds to sit down at her desk. She flips through her record book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flip, flip, flip. Occasionally she raises her head to check who’s there. The class just sits, anxiously, some people are whispering at the back. She wants to whip her head back to hear what they’re saying but she keeps to herself. Tavros is just quietly tapping his pen next to her. He seems pretty absorbed in whatever he’s thinking about. She steals a glance at the open notebook, one it is a bunch of scrawled out phrases, and a drawing of what looks to be her seatmate in a Peter Pan costume. Some doodles under it seem to be revisions, each one a more marked departure from the last. Eventually she sees one encircled doodle. It’s a far cry from what it’s supposed to be, in that it’s less of a Peter Pan costume and more… Pan-esque? She abruptly stops looking and sits straight up when Ma’am Porrim clears her throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(“Alright, class, I’ll be leaving you, wait for your subject teacher. Don’t misbehave or it’s going to be on me.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>The second she walks out of the door, the entire class quickly goes back to making a racket. What kind of racket? Maybe a badminton racket, a tennis racket, who knows. Either way, Nep’s more of a ball girl. She continues observing Tavros’ (Tavros’s?) drawings, at least for a few more seconds before he frantically covers it. He looks intensely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to see it, but your drawings are really good!” His face settles into a slight drown. “Are you… gonna ask me to draw you too?” She quirks an eyebrow at this. “No! I mean, if you wanted to I wouldn’t stop you but I’m aware that it’s not exactly polite to ask that.” He sighs. “Not exactly polite to look at my notebook without permission either, but it’s fine…” He mumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them sit in silence, for her it’s more of a remorseful silence, and for her seatmate, she assumes it’s slightly uncomfortable. “Can I make it up to you by buying you lunch?” She asks. He looks at her, confused. And then he holds up his lunchbox. “I already have food… But…” He pauses, and suddenly his eyes find the floor interesting. “If you want to hang out that would be cool too…” Her eyes light up at this prospect and she pumps her hands repeatedly into the air. “Yes! Sure! Of course!” She coughs. “I’m sorry, again, uh, but yeah that sounds cool!” Soon the teacher walks into their classroom and they settle down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Class is boring. Really, it is. Especially if you’re looking forward to lunch. There’s recess but it’s only 15 minutes, what do you expect people to DO within 15 minutes? She listens to the teacher yeah, and she knows she should be taking notes. But she kind of, forgets to do so. The only note she has for Science is the title of the lesson and basically that’s it. It’s going to be hell to remember what she’s supposed to study later. She almost falls asleep during Math, but that’s because the teacher has a really soothing voice, and that’s what she’ll say if you ever ask her. Luckily Tavros taps her shoulder to wake her up, albeit it being slightly startling. Recess comes and she doesn’t leave the immediate vicinity, opting to eat her snacks right outside of the classroom. She’s gotten locked out a lot because she lost track of time, so better safe than sorry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they cycle through the three remaining subjects, and Nepeta tries her best to listen, but alas, her notes are still mostly occupied by ship ideas, and weird vague suggestions of lessons. The minute the bell rings and her teacher walks out the door, she gets up from her seat, buzzing with excitement as she basically hovers over her seatmate, who’s slowly retrieving his lunchbox. As she watches her potential new friend, a heaviness engulfs the air behind her. She turns around to see…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her bestest best best friendy friend in the whole world is standing behind her. What was that whole sentence? Don’t mind it. Anyway, it’s Equius, again. She grins. “Tavros is gonna join us for lunch!” He looks at the boy behind her and then back at her, and nods. “Alright.” Tavros quickly stands up, banging his hip on his desk. He clutches his lunchbox and his hip in pain. “Ow…” He straightens up eventually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You ready?” Nepeta asks, but she doesn’t let the two boys finish their sentence as she grabs their wrists and pulls them to the canteen. Equius shoots Tavros a look, and he gulps. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <a href="https://anonbotbyskaianet.tumblr.com/">In another place… a robot powers up. </a>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>aaah this took WAY longer than it should have. hope ya'll like this though</p><p>*lolo is grandpa, nepeta is calling equius an old man</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seatmates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kanaya navigates the hijinks of her friends and meets the new transferee.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Smushed against her fellow sweaty teenagers, Kanaya patiently waits to get to the front of the crowd. They’re supposed to line up to buy food but when have any of these kids decided to follow what they’re SUPPOSED to do?</span>
  <em>
    <span> (“Sisig please.”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>She says as she hands over a 50 peso bill. The guy manning the stall gives her a small smile, and makes small talk with her as she waits for her food. A few minutes or so later a sizzling plate is shoved in front of her, she thanks him and scurries off to find her friends’ table. “Kanayaaa! Over here!” A voice shouts from the side. She smiles and makes her way to the standing table. Checking the surroundings, most of the nearby benches seem occupied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A girl wearing sharp red-rimmed glasses smiles at her. “Hey Kanayaaaaaa.” This greeting is complete with some finger guns. Pew pew. “Hello Tereziiiii.” She returns the sentiment with a similarly intimidating pair of finger guns. Pew pew pew. Suddenly, a finger grazes her shoulder. Whipping her head around to check who it is, she only glimpses a flash of fuchsia as she gets lifted up in a big ol bear hug. “Kanaya!!!!” An excited voice exclaims. “Hello Feferi.” She gently gets plopped down by the tall girl. “I like what you’ve done with your hair today.” She gestures to Feferi’s braid, a fuchsia ribbon woven into it. “Thanks, Ate Meenah wanted to do it today and I couldn’t say no.” They make some small talk before they hear grumbling in the distance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, a disheveled heap of curls bearing a lunch plate drops his plate onto the table. “Look what the bird made a nest in, hello Karkaaaat.” Kanaya snickers a little bit at the exasperated groan that escapes his lips.</span>
  <em>
    <span> (“Why are you even annoyed? Did you actually put effort into your hair this time?”) </span>
  </em>
  <span>This earns her one more groan from their grumpy tablemate. “I ALWAYS, ALWAYS put effort into my hair. Kanaya, come on, back me up on this! You see me, you see my hair before it’s ruined.” She coughs a bit, barely succeeding in repressing the amused smile crawling up the corners of her mouth. “Yes, yes I do. It’s quite good usually.” She takes a bite of her food. “Too bad it never seems to hold.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The table explodes in laughter as Karkat starts making small angry noises as he shovels food into his mouth. “YOUF DONTH UMNFDERSTANFD!! NONE OFTH YOU UNMDERTHTANDF!!” She wipes tears from her eyes, careful not to disturb the waterproof make-up she applied earlier. They talk as they eat their food, of course while making lighthearted jabs at each other. Terezi and Karkat are usually the ones pseudo-arguing, Feferi doesn’t really participate but she laughs at the jokes nonetheless. And out of the corner of her eye, she sees a glint of purple and blue. The group immediately shuts up as they collectively hope the two don’t notice them. Thankfully, they don’t. Kanaya lets out a relieved sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they give back their plates to the respective stalls they bought their lunch form, Karkat and Kanaya talk. “So any idea what section the transferee was placed in?” She asks as she hands back the plate. He grunts in response. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. He got flinged into the guidance office as soon as we passed by the faculty room.” Quickly glancing at the clock, her eyes widen and she makes Karkat semi-fling the emptied plastic disc as she grabs his wrist and rushes him back to the classroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“KANAYA WAIT UP HOLY SH-” A teacher gives them both a sharp glance as his mouth clicks closed. They rush up the stairs, (“You don’t have to flex your long legs.” he says as she skips over 2 steps at a time. “Stop me then.” He does not.) and stumble into the classroom just as the bell rings. Phew. Just in time. Kanaya and Karkat silently make their way to their seats, giving each other a half-smile as they separate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And the class waits. And waits. And waits some more. A little more? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their teacher hasn’t arrived within the few minutes of silence. The classroom quickly devolves back into a rancorous hellhole. Gog, these people cannot shut up. With all the commotion as a good distraction, Kanaya pulls out her phone and begins texting around to see what’s up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">grimAuxiliatrix [GA]</b>
  <b class="pesterlog"> has begun pestering </b>
  <b class="terezi">gallowsCalibrator [GC]</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Terezi Has Your Teacher Arrived In Your Classroom Or Is Ours Just Missing Today</b>
</p>
<p><b class="kanaya">GA: It Is Unusual, Sir Santos Does Not Make It A Habit To Be Late</b>
</p><p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: 1’LL B3 FR4NK W1TH YOU K4N</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Really</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Kan</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: Y3S R34LLY D34L W1TH 1T</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: 4NYW4Y</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: WHY 4RE YOU LOOK1NG 1N TH3 G1FT HORS3’S MOUTH</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: What Do You Mean</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: TH3 T34CH3R 1SN’T TH3R3, 4ND YOU’R3 S1TT1NG ON YOUR</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: P4RDON MY FR3NCH</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: S1TT1NG ON YOUR 4SS T3XT1NG M3 CONC3RN3D 4BOUT 1T</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Your French Is Pardoned</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Anyway</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Is There A More Appropriate Reaction Then</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: Y34H, 4CTUALLY</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: ROS3 1S JUST S1TT1NG H3R3 BOR3D</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: T4LK H3R UP OR SOM3TH1NG</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: SW33P H3R OFF H3R FR41L-LOOK1NG F33T</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: I Know I Have Expressed Interest In Her</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: But She Does Not Strike Me As The Type To Be</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Attracted To Women</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Much Less Me</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: 4R3 YOU S3R1OUS</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: NO, R34LLY</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: B3C4US3 TH1S 1S JUST TOO H1LAR1OUS AND S4DDEN1NG TO B3 TRU3</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: T3LL M3 YOU’R3 JOK1NG </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: SH3 R34D S4PPHO’S PO3TRY OUT LOUD FOR 4 CL4SS PR3S3NT4TION</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Sappho Is A Brilliant Poet It Just Makes Sense For Her To Present Her Poetry</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: SH3 H4S 4 PR1D3 P1N ON H3R B4CKP4CK</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: She Might Just Be An Ally</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: SH3 H4S 4SK3D YOU TO B3 H3R V4L3NT1NE TWO Y34RS 1N 4 ROW</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Maybe She Meant It As Friends</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: OH MY GOG K4N4Y4</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: TH4T’S 1T</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: </b>
  <b class="terezi">
    <em>(YOU’R3 SO D3NS3!)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: Ouch</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="kanaya">GA: </b>
  <b class="kanaya">
    <em>(Am I Supposed To Cry Now)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b class="terezi">GC: 4444UUUUGH &gt;:[</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>-</b>
  <b class="kanaya">grimAuxiliatrix [GA]</b>
  <b class="pesterlog"> has ceased pestering </b>
  <b class="terezi">gallowsCalibrator [GC]</b>
  <b>-</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Terezi is right, she quietly thinks, but then the teacher comes in. Sapphic daydreams dashed, she puts away her phone. It’s that guy with the shades from earlier that morning, Dave? Sir Santos clears his throat. “Class, you have a new classmate. A transferee from America.” He nudges the boy next to him. An easy smile spreads on his lips, and she can hear some of the girls at the back gossiping. She can tell he’ll be popular in no time, hopefully not around Vriska or Eridan’s circles, but given how high school social circles work, it might be a possibility. “Name’s Dave Strider. Nice to meet you guys.” The gossiping gets even louder. Some discomfort tugs on his face for a bit but he quickly settles back into a relaxed expression (at least she assumes it’s relaxed). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A silent groan comes from the corner of the room. Kanaya knows immediately who it is. A smug smirk creeps onto her face as she mouths ‘How are you feeling?’ to her disgruntled friend. He enthusiastically gives her a middle finger. Hehe, she coughs, she means she feels sympathy for Karkat. Yes, that is what she means. The only available seat left is next to her though. She watches as Dave sits down next to her. “Hello, I am Kanaya Maryam, welcome to hell.” She jokes as she extends her hand to shake his. “Maryam, ooh, I see.” He shakes her hand firmly, and gives her a knowing smirk. See what exactly? “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks. “Nothin’, don’t sweat it.” The response leaves her even more confused. Alright, then. Keep your secrets.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dave is surprisingly a well-behaved seatmate. She didn’t know what she was expecting but she’s half-sure it wasn’t this. He moves a bit in his seat every so often, but otherwise he’s quiet. She’s unsure as to why. According to Karkat, this guy was able to keep up with his sister. And if you can keep up with any of the Vantases, then you must be used to both hearing and talking a mile a minute. It’s a group effort actually, to listen to Karkat, once she thinks about it. Terezi can handle him on her own, yes, but that’s because she cuts him off with a rebuttal mid-verbal essay and he gets flustered. Her little train of thought is stopped when she hears clicking and tapping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s clicking and tapping his pen on his desk, it’s almost musical in how rhythmic it is. It’s kind of cool, for lack of a better term. He catches her staring and abruptly stops. “Am I bothering you or something, ‘cause I can just stop. Last time I was doing it my pen got snatched like a child being hunted by a harpy. Who came up with harpies anyway, like, half-lady, half-bird? Birds are cool but what Greek guy sat down, took a massive hit from his blunt, and said ‘Ah yes, bird lady, a viable figure to scare the collective shit out of children to scare them into behaving’.” His face scrunched up a bit during that tangent but it quickly relaxes back once he notices that she’s staring open-mouthed at him. “Uh, what I meant was do you not like the pen tappy tap.” “No, it is quite alright. I do not mind it.” His shoulders relax and she continues to write down notes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Soon it’s the end of the day, Kanaya’s on cleaner duty, and as half-expected almost everyone ditches aside from Karkat and Dave. “Still don’t get why those fuckweeds won’t pull their gogdamn weight.” The girl gives him a sharp-edged glance. He grunts. “Am I not allowed to swear yet? We’re in 10th grade. Why is there still a ban on me having a mouth drenched in the filth of Pasig River?” She slams two chairs together, and apologizes to them under her breath. “Because it is a little unbecoming, you have to admit.” A snicker slips out from the only other person there. “Mom’s just looking out for you man.” Dave elbows him, and action the other boy retaliates with an elbow back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow at both of them. “If you are not going to help me with the cleaning, why are you still here?” They both stop fighting momentarily, and then proceed to scramble towards the broom. They intermittently steal the broom from each other, making more of a mess than they fix. She sighs and grabs the broom from both of them. “I can do it, Kanaya!” Karkat protests. “Yeah, c’mon I haven’t done anything since I got here aside from sitting.” Dave counters. She successfully wrangles the broom away. “You can sort out the budding problem we have over in the art materials corner.” She gestures to the haphazardly cut out cartolina, weird bits of styrofoam and rolls of tape hastily stuffed into the cardboard box. Both sigh and concede to fix it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sweep, sweep, sweep. She can hear the rustling of papers behind her. Sweep sweep sweep. She looks and the mess is… half-contained? Sweep sweep sweep. She goes out for a minute to dump the contents of the dustpan and comes back to find the contents of the box somewhat neatly sorted. “That should be okay, I believe.” She goes back to her seat and slings her bag over her shoulder again. Karkat sits down, wears both of his backpack straps, and stands back up again, almost tumbling because his backpack got caught by the arm of the desk. He hastily rearranges the skewed chair arrangement, and she sighs and ruffles his hair as she goes past him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She endures his obscenities as he curses her out for messing up his already messed up hair, and is a bit amused by how winded from laughter Dave sounds as they both trail behind her. The ride back home today will be quite entertaining, she can already tell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oh MAN that took a hot bit but im glad i got that out. hope yall are having a good 2021 so far :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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